


Ghost Of A Chance

by badly_knitted



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Froday Flash Fiction Challenge, Ghosts, Haunting, Light Angst, M/M, Sad Jack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-06
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 11:11:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10555332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badly_knitted/pseuds/badly_knitted
Summary: Ianto Jones is living a perfectly ordinary life until he finds himself being haunted.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Challenge #17.06: Weird & Hilarious: Book Titles at fffc, and my genprompt_bingo Wild Card square, using Ghosts and Hauntings.
> 
> This one's a two-parter.

Ianto Jones was a perfectly ordinary man, living a perfectly ordinary life, until the day he discovered he had a rather out of the ordinary problem. For some reason he couldn’t even begin to fathom, he was being haunted. 

He’d always thought ghosts were basically the spirits of deceased people who had formed such a strong attachment to a particular place that they were unable to move on after they died. If that had been the case with this particular ghost, Ianto could have dealt with it by the simple expedient of just avoiding the place it was haunting, but no; his ghost had to be an awkward one with no fixed abode. It followed him everywhere; any time of the day or night, wherever he was and whatever he might be doing, he’d look up and there it would be, grinning broadly at him as if to say, “Ha! Found you!” 

While it was an interesting if disconcerting novelty to begin with, after a while, to put it mildly, it started to become downright inconvenient. There he was, trying to go about his normal, everyday life, but now seemingly out of nowhere, this ghost had attached itself to him. Worse, the ghost didn’t seem to be aware of the fact that it was no longer alive. 

Ianto might have been inclined to believe it was indeed a real, living, breathing human being, except that there were several things about it that proved otherwise. First of all, it was completely silent; no matter what it did, it never made the slightest sound that Ianto could detect. Secondly, it could appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. Surely both of those were ghostly traits. On top of that, as far he could tell, nobody else could see it; in fact, other people had an unfortunate tendency to walk straight through it, which was a disturbing sight to say the least. As if that weren’t evidence enough to persuade him of the apparition’s true nature, over the past few weeks Ianto had discovered that if he focussed his eyes exactly right, the ghost was just insubstantial enough that he could see through it. That was… strange, but he supposed it was to be expected. Ghosts weren’t renowned for being solid, after all. It stood to reason; if they were solid then they wouldn’t be ghosts, would they?

Ianto considered himself to be a sensible, down-to-earth, and above all, logical person; he was generally well equipped to deal with any situation he might be confronted with, but this one had him stumped. How was he going to convince this ghost that it was dead and that it really should be considering moving on to the next plane of existence, going towards the light, or whatever? 

The whole situation struck him as bizarre; dealing with ghosts was outside his experience and he wasn’t even sure where to begin, but he knew he couldn’t go on like this indefinitely. He was going to have to do something about it. After giving the matter some serious thought over a period of several days, he finally came to the conclusion that maybe a trip to the library was in order. Surely they would have a few books on ghosts and the paranormal, wouldn’t they? Admittedly his local was only a small branch library, but still, if they didn’t have what he needed, maybe they could order it for him from the main branch in Cardiff. Or maybe to save time he should just go straight to the main branch himself and cut out the middleman. That would probably be more sensible.

Decision made, he abandoned any other plans he might have had for the day and headed for the bus stop, got on the first bus into town, flashed his pass at the driver, and sank into the nearest empty aisle seat, settling in for the journey. As the bus pulled away, he thought back to the first time he’d seen what he’d come to think of as his ghost. 

 

OoOoOoO

 

He’d been sitting by himself one afternoon in an almost empty coffee shop, reading a book and sipping cautiously at his still slightly too hot drink. The coffee wasn’t as good as he could have made himself, but it was good enough to be reasonably palatable, and several orders of magnitude better than anything he’d found elsewhere in town. It always surprised him that the shop didn’t seem to get many customers, but maybe that was because he never happened to drop in during their busy times. 

Something had made him look up from his book, and he’d nearly jumped out of his skin when he’d realised there was a man sitting directly across the table from him. Ianto had immediately wondered two things; firstly, why the man had chosen to sit at his table when there were so many empty tables available, and secondly, how he’d managed to sit down so quietly that Ianto hadn’t even noticed his arrival.

After a few moments of studying the other man, he’d found a third thing to wonder about. Why did his silent companion look so sad? He was staring into a half-empty coffee cup, looking like his world had ended, and in retrospect, Ianto decided it probably had. The man was a ghost after all, which naturally implied that he must have died somehow, probably in a traumatic manner; surely he had every reason to be upset about that, although unlike most of the ghosts Ianto had heard about, this one looked perfectly fine, uninjured, and healthier than any dead person had a right to look. In fact if he hadn’t looked so sad, he would have been quite good looking. No, scrap that; he would have been devastatingly gorgeous. In spite of his sad expression, Ianto had been forced to admit to himself that he found the stranger very attractive.

Although the two of them were sitting down, Ianto estimated his mysterious companion to be approximately six feet tall, the same height as Ianto himself. The ghost, however, was noticeably broader across the shoulders. He was perhaps in his early to mid thirties, had a thick mop of brown hair that flopped casually over his forehead, a chiselled jaw, a dimpled chin, a wide, full-lipped mouth that looked like it was made for smiling, and expressive blue eyes, which at that moment were shadowed by deep sorrow. Ianto’s heart went out to the man. Nobody so handsome should ever have to look so heartbroken.

Still, the man was a stranger, and it wouldn’t have been good manners to intrude on his sorrow, so Ianto had dropped his gaze to his book again, and when he’d glanced up a moment later, the man, complete with his cup of coffee, was gone as if he’d never been there. 

At the time, Ianto had wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing, but from that moment on, he’d started to see the mystery man everywhere; sitting on the bench at the bus stop, leaning on the railing near the Plas looking out to sea, walking through the park, hands in the pockets of the long, blue-grey coat he always seemed to be wearing… That was another strange thing about the man; he was always dressed exactly the same, in clothes that harked back to the Second World War. In fact it was the anachronistic clothing that had first started Ianto wondering whether the man might be a ghost.

A week or so after his first encounter with the mystery man, Ianto was back at his table in the coffee shop, reading his book, and when he happened to glance up, the man was once again sitting across from him. This time was slightly different though; instead of staring fixedly into his coffee cup, he was looking directly at Ianto, squinting slightly as if he was trying to make out something he couldn’t quite see. Ianto smiled politely.

“Hi.”

The man didn’t respond, just rubbed his eyes, and with his elbows resting on the table, leant further forward, tilting his head to one side and then the other. After a moment, his shoulders drooped and he put his head in his hands, the picture of abject misery. Ianto sighed. Although he could see the ghost clearly enough, it was becoming obvious that the ghost couldn’t see him, or hear him for that matter, and a few minutes later, although Ianto never saw him move, his table companion was simply… gone.

Ianto wasn’t sure how much time passed after that encounter. He continued to see the ghost everywhere he went; in the chip shop, in the pub, outside what used to be a tourist information office on Mermaid Quay… In Ianto’s opinion, it was a stupid place to put one really; how were tourists ever supposed to find it tucked away down there? No wonder it had closed.

Eventually, after maybe a week or two, he found himself back at the coffee shop, once again sitting at the same table. He was minding his own business, nose buried in his book, and drinking his coffee, when between one heartbeat and the next the ghost was suddenly right there, in the seat across from him, as if he’d been there the whole time. Looking as sad as ever, he was sipping from his cup and as always, he seemed completely unaware of Ianto’s presence.

“We really have to stop meeting like this,” Ianto commented under his breath. He forced a smile. “Do you come here often, or just when I’m here?”

The ghost didn’t respond, just lowered his ghost coffee cup towards its ghost saucer, and on impulse, Ianto slammed his book down on the table, making it rock slightly. Across from him, the ghost jerked back, half dropping his cup, which landed soundlessly on the saucer, and he stared across the table, squinting in the same manner he had the last time.

“Hello!” Ianto gave a little wave. “I’m Ianto Jones; what’s your name?”

Blue eyes suddenly snapped wide and the handsome face paled. The man’s lips moved, he was obviously saying something, but whatever it was, Ianto couldn’t hear a word of it. Which shouldn’t really have been surprising, because the man was a ghost, and how much sound could you expect to get from insubstantial vocal chords? Always assuming ghosts still had such things, which didn’t seem likely. Why would they bother with all the fiddly little bits inside when they didn’t need them? Still, Ianto was fairly certain the ghost could at least see him now. That was interesting. Even as he watched, the shocked expression on the ghost’s face transformed into a wide, astonished, delighted smile. It was the first time Ianto had ever seen the ghost look anything but miserable; happiness suited him far better, and Ianto found himself smiling back, feeling quite pleased with himself.

That feeling hadn’t lasted long, because as it had turned out, that was the day Ianto’s ghost problems had really begun. Before, his encounters with the ghost had seemed random and coincidental, but from that day onwards, the ghost appeared to be actively seeking him out, and there didn’t seem to be a damn thing Ianto could do about it. Being stalked by a ghost was hardly something he could report to the police. Well, not without having them send for the men in white coats to haul him away to Providence Park.

“It’s your own fault, Ianto Jones,” he remembered grumbling to himself one night on his way home from the pub, the ghost walking beside him in perfect step, smiling happily at him, mouth moving, obviously speaking to him even though he couldn’t hear a word it was saying. “You wanted to see if you could attract your ghost’s attention, and you succeeded. Congratulations. Now it looks like you’re stuck with him.”

How long ago had that been? A month? Two? More? Ianto was no longer sure. The ghost wasn’t with him all the time, but since that first smile, not a day had gone by when it hadn’t found him at least once, and usually several times. Sometimes it followed him around for hours, other times it just popped in for a few minutes here and there before vanishing again. Maybe he could have lived with that, but recently he’d started waking up in the middle of the night to find the ghost standing by his bed watching him sleep, or worse, lying down beside him, which to Ianto’s mind was taking the whole stalking thing a bit too far.

Then just this morning, he’d stepped out of the shower, naked, and been confronted by a very smug looking ghost leering at him as it looked him up and down appreciatively. That had been the final straw. Ianto had blushed all over; couldn’t he even have a bit of privacy in his own locked bathroom? He’d had enough, which was why he was on the bus now, going to the Cardiff public library to look for a book on what to do when a ghost with voyeuristic tendencies becomes obsessed with you. 

He glanced towards the side window to see where he was and really wasn’t particularly surprised to realise his ghost had found him once again and was sitting in the seat beside him, smiling brightly, as if he thought Ianto was taking him out somewhere nice. Ianto rolled his eyes and slumped down in his seat. Why’d the ghost have to pick him? Why couldn’t it have attached itself to someone else? He already knew the answer to that of course; it was the story of his life, and the same reason he’d got himself arrested for shoplifting when he was in his teens. “Because I’m an idiot who acts on impulse without considering the consequences, that’s why.” He faced front again and waited patiently for the bus to arrive at his stop.

 

OoOoOoO

 

As it turned out, the main branch of the Cardiff public library had a fairly good section on the paranormal, and it didn’t take Ianto long to find what he was after. Judging by its title, the book was exactly what he needed, so plucking it off the shelf, Ianto took it to the automated issue desk, checked it out, and headed home again, the ghost trailing silently along behind him. He thought he’d lost it when he stepped off the bus at his stop and realised it hadn’t followed him, but when he opened the door to his cosy, one-bedroom bachelor flat, there was the ghost, sitting on his sofa, patiently waiting for him.

Ianto kicked off his shoes, hung up his coat, made himself a coffee, and then sinking onto the opposite end of the sofa from the ghost, he took the book out of his bag.

‘People Who Don't Know They're Dead: How They Attach Themselves to Unsuspecting Bystanders and What to do About It.’ To Ianto, the title looked very reassuring. It told him he wasn’t the first person this had happened to, and that it was something that could be fixed. He was about to open the book to the first page when he realised the ghost had moved and was now sitting right next to him, peering curiously at the book. In fact it wasn’t just sitting beside him; they were overlapping slightly. Ianto turned towards the ghost, intending to tell it to keep out of his personal space, and his personal person, not that he really expected that to do any good since the ghost wasn’t able to hear him any better than he could hear it, but the words died in his mouth, because…

The ghost’s eyes were wide and worried; he was pointing at the book in Ianto’s hands, shaking his head frantically, and for once the meaning was clear: Don’t open it.

“Why not? You follow me everywhere, invade my privacy, I can’t have anything resembling a normal life with you around… Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t read this book and do whatever it takes to get rid of you!” Ianto looked the ghost straight in the eye, determined he wouldn’t be the one to back down.

He wasn’t sure whether the ghost somehow understood what he’d said or not, but suddenly it jumped to its feet and stood right in front of him. Which was where the coffee table was, proving to Ianto once and for all, as if proof were still needed, that the man before him was indeed a ghost, since its legs and the lower part of its coat vanished through the table top and reappeared underneath. 

Yes, he bent down to check, peering underneath the low table. It wasn’t as if he saw someone standing in the middle of a piece of furniture every day. 

When he straightened up again, the ghost was beckoning to him. Ianto frowned. “You want me to follow you?”

Again the beckoning gesture, more urgent this time. Ianto chewed his bottom lip for a moment, then sighed. Coming to a decision, he stood up, putting the book on his coffee table. It would still be there when he got back. At least he hoped it would be. He also hoped that following the ghost wouldn’t mean he was compounding the earlier mistake he’d made of getting it to notice him. He supposed even ghosts must get lonely and welcome a bit of company; he just wished this one hadn’t gone so far over the top.

“Okay, fine, just let me put my shoes and coat back on.” 

The ghost waited impatiently, shuffling from foot to foot until Ianto was finally ready and picked up his keys. As he made for the door, Ianto glanced away from the ghost for a second, checking his wallet and phone were in his pocket, just in case he needed them. When he looked up again, the ghost had vanished. He rolled his eyes; it must have gone through the solid wood ahead of him. Opening the door, he let himself out and sure enough, there was his ghost, waiting for him on the landing.

“It’s alright for you,” Ianto grumbled. “I can’t just walk through things the way you do. Where are we going?” There was no answer of course; the ghost simply beckoned him forward, and with a shrug, Ianto followed. There didn’t seem to be anything else he could do.

 

OoOoOoO

 

Afterwards, Ianto found he couldn’t really remember any details of the journey he and the ghost took together; when he tried, it was as if he was grasping at smoke. It seemed to have taken no time at all, and yet from the position of the sun, hours had passed, perhaps even as much as half a day. The only things he could remember clearly were the broad back and flaring coat moving ahead of him, and the way the man he followed kept looking back over his shoulder as if to make sure Ianto was still there. He thought he had some vague recollections of being on a bus, or maybe a train, and yet he didn’t recall buying a ticket or showing his travel card. However they’d accomplished it, when the ghost finally stopped in front of an unfamiliar building, Ianto was more than a little startled to realise he was no longer in Cardiff. He might not recognise the building, but he knew the skyline across the river.

“How the hell did we get to London?” he asked, knowing he wouldn’t get an answer but needing to say the words anyway.

The ghost beckoned him once more and swept onwards towards an open door into the building. Ianto followed closely, starting to worry that he might get lost and never find his way back home if he didn’t stick close to his guide. Inside, he dived into the elevator behind his ghost and stood beside him all the way down to some sub-basement level, then kept close behind him again along corridors lit with fluorescent strip lights. The floors were tiled, but only one set of footsteps sounded against them. It was always like that when he and the ghost walked anywhere together, so it didn’t bother him.

Turning a corner towards a set of double doors at the end of yet another long corridor, a man coming the other way held the door open for them, giving a deferential little nod as they passed into the room beyond. An attractive dark-skinned woman was in the room, and she looked up from her clipboard with a small, sad smile. Without a word, she reached for the handle of one of the metal drawers that lined one wall, pulling it open as Ianto followed his ghost across the floor to stand beside it.

TBC in Part 2


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having followed where his ghost led him, what is in store for Ianto Jones?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Challenge #17.06: Weird & Hilarious: Book Titles at fffc, and my genprompt_bingo square Artefacts (Alien and Otherwise).

A feeling of trepidation coursed through Ianto; this was obviously a morgue of some description, although unlike any he’d ever seen on TV. The tray before him held a body covered by a white sheet. Was this the body of his ghost? Was that what he was being shown? He reached hesitantly for the sheet, but the young woman beat him to it, drawing it back for him. Ianto’s breath caught in his throat at the sight before him, the all too familiar face, pale and still, lifeless.

No. He shook his head and took a step back, desperately trying to deny what he was seeing. Beside him, the ghost was watching him, looking sad, sympathetic, but oddly hopeful. Ianto forced his gaze back to the body in the drawer and took a faltering step forward. The truth hit him like a freight train, making his legs go weak and his heart thunder in his chest. Except it didn’t, it couldn’t, because…

Half turning to the man beside him, Ianto struggled to find his voice. “I thought you were a ghost, but I was wrong, wasn’t I? You’re real, alive; it’s me that’s the ghost. I’m the one who’s dead.” The proof was right there in front of him, his own body lying perfectly preserved in the morgue drawer.

Reaching across the body, the man in the coat took the clipboard and pen from the young woman, flipping to a clean sheet of paper and writing something, then turning the clipboard so that Ianto could read it.

‘Do you remember?’

Ianto shook his head helplessly. “How can I be dead and not remember? I have a life, I work at…” He trailed off as he suddenly realised he had no idea where he worked. He couldn’t remember ever going to work, couldn’t recall the faces of the people he worked with, or anyone he knew, had no memory of speaking to anyone other than the ghost who wasn’t a ghost. All those times drinking coffee he didn’t remember buying, reading a book… what had it been about? He didn’t know that either. Ianto shook himself.

The man was holding up the clipboard again.

‘I couldn’t let you go. I had your body brought here and cryogenically frozen. Martha helped me.’ He pointed towards the woman.

“Why?” Ianto knew they couldn’t hear him, but figured they could guess what he was saying easily enough. It was the obvious question to ask.

‘You shouldn’t have died. It was all my fault. I wanted to find a way to bring you back, but a body is nothing without the soul that belongs in it. I was beginning to think I’d never find you. I went to all the places you used to go around Cardiff. The Plas, the Tourist Office, your favourite pubs, the chip shop, the parks, your flat… the coffee shop, the only one in Cardiff you said made drinkable coffee. That’s where I found you. One minute I was alone, and then there you were. A bit transparent, but still looking as good as ever.’ The smile on the man’s face looked bit strained.

“So what now?” Ianto asked, looking questioningly at him.

He was writing again, turning the clipboard so Ianto read it.

‘I have a device for restoring the spirit to the body.’ He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a strange, shiny black oval object with several equally shiny black buttons set into its surface, holding it up so Ianto could see it before setting it down beside the body in the morgue drawer. ‘This thing; it’s what helped me find you and bring you here. It’s a one-shot deal though, one chance only. Luckily it’s powered by Vortex energy, which is something I just happen to have an inexhaustible supply of. I’m not entirely sure how it does what it does, but the how of it isn’t important. It’s up to you though; do you want to live again?’

Ianto thought about that. Up until a few minutes ago, he’d thought he was living. Now he knew that had been some sort of fragmented illusion. He was dead, and without that device, would probably sink back into nothingness, unaware of anything… dead and gone forever. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant thought.

Coming to a decision, he nodded firmly. “Yes. What do I do?” He shrugged helplessly, looking at the man.

More writing; a hurried, untidy scrawl. ‘Merge with your body. Lie on it, or in it, something like that. Then I’ll use the device to fix you there, and Martha will use the defibrillator to get your heart started again. Don’t worry; putting you in cryo-stasis already dealt with what killed you, so there’s no chance of it killing you again.’

Overwhelmed, Ianto wanted to thank the man, but he didn’t know how; words that couldn’t be heard weren’t anywhere near enough. This complete stranger had searched for him to save him from death; how could Ianto ever begin to repay that generosity? Why he’d done it, Ianto couldn’t fathom; maybe it was simply out of feelings of guilt, but still, this man had gone out of his way to save his life. Something like that surely merited some expression of gratitude. 

Of course, the device might not work, but Ianto was willing to give it a try anyway. How could he not? If there was the slightest chance… Forgetting for a moment that any kind of physical interaction between them would be impossible, he walked over to the man, meaning to hug him, but instead passed right through him. Oops, that felt very odd. It wasn’t his body; it was already occupied by its rightful owner. Strangely, it also appeared to be filled to overflowing with a golden, glowing light, some of which seemed to attach itself to Ianto on his way through, tangling around him and melting into his incorporeal self. He hoped that wouldn’t do him or his new friend any harm. 

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly, turning to face the man he’d just walked through. Even though the man couldn’t hear him, the apologetic expression on Ianto’s face must have been unmistakeable, because he smiled back, somewhat ruefully, and quickly scribbled something on his clipboard before holding it up.

‘Don’t worry about it. No harm done. You ready to do this?’

Ianto nodded. If it didn’t work, he couldn’t see that he’d be any worse off than he was before, but if it did… He’d be properly alive again, not just floating in the odd kind of half-life he’d been experiencing. Everything about it had seemed perfectly normal at the time, he’d never thought to question why he couldn’t keep track of the passage of time, or why he couldn’t remember anyone talking to him, but looking back, he probably should have. None of that mattered now though.

Moving towards the open drawer, Ianto stared down at his body, wondering what kind of person he was and what sort of life he’d lived before his death. Did he have a job? How about a family, parents, brothers and sisters? Was he dating someone, or perhaps even married? Every time he tried to recall any detail, no matter how small, about his former life he ran into a blank wall of nothingness. He knew his name, if he was even right about that, but nothing else. All he could do was hope that at the very least he was a decent enough man to deserve another shot at being alive. Perhaps his memory would return once he was reunited with his body.

Taking a deep breath, which he probably didn’t need to do on account of being dead, he took a single step forward, so he was halfway through the metal drawer, standing upright in the middle of his own body. He glanced back towards the man. “Here goes nothing!” he said, turning so that he’d be the right way round, then he tried to lie down in his body, not at all sure whether or not such a manoeuvre would even prove physically possible in his current insubstantial state. The last thing Ianto saw was the man he’d once believed to be a ghost picking up the strange device again, turning it on so that it glowed in iridescent colours, and reaching out to place it against his forehead… 

There was a vast explosion of dazzling, multicoloured light that nobody else seemed aware of, and then everything went black.

 

OoOoOoO

 

Ianto opened his eyes to dim light and the quiet hum of nearby machines. Where was he? What had happened to him? His brain felt fuzzy and he couldn’t remember, but his mouth was as dry as if he’d swallowed the Sahara desert, and his whole body felt impossibly weak. Had he been injured or ill? Turning his head took far more effort than it should have, but somehow he managed it. There was a man sitting in a chair beside the bed, eyes closed, looking like he must have fallen asleep while keeping vigil. He looked familiar… Of course, it was the ghost who wasn’t a ghost. Ianto blinked. Ghost? No, wherever did that idea come from? It was Jack. Gradually, his memory started to return; they’d been in Thames House, confronting the 456, and it had released some kind of poison gas, or fast-acting virus, and they’d… He’d died. The memory of his death resurfaced with a sudden, terrible clarity; the pain, the weakness, fighting for every breath, telling Jack he loved him, feeling his body shutting down and knowing it was the end for him, that this time Jack would come back from death alone…

But it he’d died, then how could he be alive now, lying in what was obviously a hospital bed, hooked up to tubes and monitors?

Jack’s final kiss… It was a dim and hazing memory, no doubt because he’d been so close to death at the time, but had Jack somehow succeeded in transferring enough of his vortex energy to Ianto to save him? Was that why he was in hospital now, feeling so weak? Was he recovering from whatever the 456 had used against them? It seemed the only logical explanation. Ianto tried to speak, but only managed a faint, barely audible croak. Nevertheless, it was enough to snap Jack back to wakefulness. Familiar blue eyes blinked at him a couple of times before focusing on him, and then Jack’s thousand-watt smile lit up his whole face.

“Ianto! You’re awake! How d’you feel?” Without waiting for an answer, which Ianto couldn’t have given him anyway, Jack leapt to his feet and pressed the call button. Within seconds, another familiar figure bustled into the room, none other than Doctor Martha Jones. Ianto smiled weakly at her as she reached the bed.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Martha said with a wide grin. “You’re going to feel weak at first, but don’t worry about that, it’s perfectly natural. Your body was in cryo-stasis for nearly a year so it’ll probably take you a while to get your strength back.”

Jack reappeared at Martha’s elbow, a paper cup in one hand. The small slivers of ice he poked between Ianto’s parched lips tasted wonderful, and as they melted they brought welcome moisture to his dry tongue. “More,” he whispered croakily, sighing with relief as Jack complied. “Thanks.” He would have said more, but he felt so tired. Eyes closing, he fell into a deep sleep.

 

OoOoOoO

 

Next time he woke up, Ianto felt much better. He was still weak but nowhere near as tired as he had been. He wasn’t at all surprised to find that Jack was sitting in the chair by the bed, just as he had been before.

“Hi.” His voice, though still a bit hoarse, was stronger than it had been earlier.

Jack looked up from the newspaper he was reading. “Good morning, gorgeous! How’re you today?”

“Okay, I think. How long…?”

“Oooh, that’s a loaded question!” Jack smirked. 

Ianto rolled his eyes. Yes, that was the Jack Harkness he knew and loved, finding the innuendo in the most innocent questions. “How long was I asleep?” There was daylight filtering in through the curtained window off to his left.

“About ten hours this time.”

“That long? I must’ve been tired.”

“Martha says it’s only to be expected after everything you’ve been through. It took a few days for you to regain consciousness after we put you back in your body and Martha zapped you back to life, and then you woke up for a few minutes yesterday evening before conking out again. You’re fine though; you passed all the tests Martha’s run with flying colours. Apparently you’re in excellent health, especially for someone who’s been dead for almost a year.”

“Oh.” There didn’t seem much else he could say to that. Ianto frowned in thought, trying to get his head around his death and subsequent resurrection. He’d genuinely been dead, and now he wasn’t. “You saved me.”

“I did, but I asked first whether or not you wanted me to,” Jack told him. “If you’d said no I would’ve… Well, it probably would’ve killed me, but I’d have respected your wishes.”

“You asked me? How did you manage that if I was dead?” Ianto’s eyes went wide as a thought occurred to him. “Please don’t tell me you held a séance or something…” That would have been too disturbing for words.

“Didn’t need to, I just went looking for your… spirit, I guess, or soul; the part of you that makes you who you are. Would’ve been no good reviving your body without it.”

Ianto shook his head; he was getting more confused by the minute. “I don’t understand any of this.”

Folding his newspaper and shoving it in the pocket of his coat, which was hanging over the back of his chair, Jack leant forward, elbows on his knees. “You don’t remember being dead?”

“No, of course not! How could I remember anything if I was dead? That makes no sense, Jack.”

Jack’s face screwed up as he tried to figure out how to explain in a way that would make sense to Ianto. “Um, well, how do I put this? Your body was dead, but the rest of you hadn’t quite caught on and was sort of hanging around all the places you used to go…” Jack trailed off.

“What, you mean like a ghost?” When Jack nodded, Ianto put his hands over his face and groaned. “I was a ghost…”

“You really don’t remember that?”

Ianto peered between his fingers then slowly lowered his hands. “You’re serious? You’re not just having me on?”

“Completely serious, I swear.”

“So I died, you had my body frozen, then found ghost me, shoved me back in my body and zapped me with electricity?”

“Technically, it was Martha who did the zapping. She knows more about the defibrillator than I do.”

“Whatever. That’s an awful lot of effort to bring me back to life.”

Jack shrugged, staring down at his hands in his lap. “More than you can imagine, but I don’t regret it; you’re worth it.”

There was something in Jack’s tone of voice that made Ianto suspicious. “What do you mean?” He frowned. “Jack, what aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing much.”

“Jack…”

“Okay, fine. I enlisted Martha’s help to freeze you, then wandered the earth for a few months, but I couldn’t find what I needed here, so then I went out into space and travelled around for a few decades until I came across a race who had a way of returning souls to their bodies. I convinced them to sell me one of their devices, arrived back here a couple of weeks after I left, and started searching for you. I had to put a sample of your DNA into the device to act as a locator, so it could track you and pull you back from limbo to this plane of existence, and it took months to get a strong enough lock on spirit you for it to have a chance of working, but it did and now you’re here, alive again. End of story.”

Ianto tried to push himself up off his pillows but found he still didn’t have the strength for anything requiring much in the way of physical effort, and he flopped back again, feeling drained. “Decades?” That was hard to get his head around. “You went through all of that for me? Why?”

“Why?” Jack sounded incredulous. “Do you really need to ask that?” he leapt to his feet and started pacing. “I did it because I couldn’t bear to lose you, not so soon, and not so completely senselessly!” He paused, turning to face Ianto but seemingly unable to bring himself to look directly at him, focussing instead on the bedcovers. “I let you follow me into Thames House without a thought to the danger I was putting you in, and it cost you your life!” Throwing his hands in the air, he resumed his restless pacing. “Gods, Ianto, I would have given anything at that moment to turn back the clock and do things differently. I should’ve gone alone, or left you outside and evacuated the building, or found a hazmat suit for you to wear… I knew the 456 were skilled with viruses, I just never gave it a second thought, and my stupidity got you killed! I lost the most important person in my life and it was all my fault!” Running out of steam, Jack slumped back into his chair. There were tears streaming down the immortal’s face and he buried his head in his hands.

Ianto stared at Jack in stunned amazement; his own vision was getting more than a little blurry. “No,” he managed at last in a slightly choked voice. “Don’t you dare blame yourself, Jack Harkness, because it wasn’t your fault, it was mine. I would’ve followed you even if you’d told me not to, because I needed to be there. Besides, I figured no matter what we did, even if we saved the children, there was still a kill order out on all of us and they’d get us eventually. I didn’t expect to survive, so I figured if I was going to die anyway, the least I could do was make sure it was on my own terms, doing the right thing, fighting alongside you until my last breath.” Ianto smiled ruefully. “I wanted my death to count for something. I hope it did. Please tell me we stopped the 456 from taking the children.”

“Yeah, we did. It wasn’t easy, and it cost Clem his life, but we did it.”

“Thank God.”

Straightening up, Jack dashed away his tears and glared angrily at Ianto. “But if you ever do anything so stupid again, I’ll kill you myself!” He deflated just as quickly. “Not literally though. Just please, no more putting yourself in danger, promise me, because I can’t lose you again!”

“I don’t know if I can promise that,” Ianto said softly. “I mean there’s a reason Torchwood doesn’t have a pension plan.”

Jack shook his head. “Torchwood is gone, disbanded; I found a way to close the Rift, the Cardiff end of it anyway. UNIT can deal with the Weevils and anything else alien-related that crops up. I gave over a century of my life to keeping this planet safe, and one after another, everyone I’ve ever cared about has been taken away from me. Well, not any more. Besides, technically you don’t exist. Everyone thinks you’re dead, except for Martha, her husband Tom, Lizzie, and a couple of other people I trust.”

Ianto lay still and silent for several minutes, letting that sink in. “So my sister and her family think I’m dead?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, Ianto, but it’s probably best if they don’t find out you’re alive again. I couldn’t tell them what I was going to do because it wouldn’t have been fair to get their hopes up in case I failed, so they’ve spent the last year mourning your death. Telling them you’re alive… I’m not sure that would be a good idea,”

“I guess you’re right. I made sure they’d be provided for in my will, and I wouldn’t want them having to give everything back just because I turned out not to be as dead as everybody thought. I’m going to miss them though,” he added with a sad smile, before asking, “What do I do now? I’ll have to get a new identity, start over somewhere else…”

“You could just come with me,” Jack suggested tentatively, getting up from his chair again and sitting on the edge of Ianto’s bed. “I mean, I’ll stay here on earth with you if that’s what you want, but… I’ve got a spaceship now; she’s nothing fancy, jut a mid-sized cargo transport, but she’s built to last and plenty big enough for two. She’ll take us anywhere we want to go, and we can haul cargo to bring in some extra credits. I always said one day I’d take you out among the stars, and now we could do that. Once you’re back to full strength, that is.”

“Travelling among the stars,” Ianto mused, thinking about it. “I like the sound of that.”

“Is that a yes?”

“I do believe it is.” Ianto’s smile was tinged with sadness, but when he spoke, he sounded hopeful, even optimistic. “With my family convinced I’m dead, I suppose I don’t really have anything to keep me here on earth, and I always did want to travel. But are you sure it’s what you want?”

“All I want is to have you with me for as long as I can. I brought you back to life because I love you, Ianto Jones, and I don’t want to waste another minute of whatever time we might have together.”

“It certainly took you long enough to say it!” Ianto teased. Grabbing one of Jack’s braces, he pulled his Captain down for a kiss. “In case you’ve forgotten over the past few decades since my untimely death, I love you too.”

His old life was over, and though he had a few regrets about all he’d be leaving behind, Ianto realised he was looking forward to starting a new life with Jack. After everything they’d both been through, he couldn’t imagine anything better than heading out into the vastness of space and exploring the many wonders the universe had to offer; just him and Jack, together, for as long as it took.

The End


End file.
